


Greed

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [34]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Feanor makes a request.





	Greed

“Ask her for me. Please?”

Erestor frowned. “Why do you even ask? She is your niece.”

“That is why it would be improper coming from me. But come, now, Eressë, you are as a husband to her. Ask her?” Fëanor waited almost patiently, except for the fact he had taken hold of the cuff of Erestor’s sleeve and held it firmly.

“Why would you want such a thing?” Erestor shrugged himself out of Feanor’s grasp.

Folding his arms over his chest and letting out something of a snort, Fëanor shrugged as his eyes uneasily darted around the marketplace. “Why do you keep answering my questions with questions of your own?”

“Why do you keep avoiding answering my questions?” 

“Are we not friends, Eressë? Did we not know each other well in childhood?”

Taking a moment to wait for a trio of ladies to pass before answering, Erestor said, “Aye, but this is not the sort of thing someone asks of a friend. What if I were to ask for the same from your wife?”

“Eressë.” Now Fëanor waited for a few others to pass by before speaking again. “What does it hurt to ask?”

“I see no gain from it. Except what, that you can brag about it?”

“Why would I brag about having a lock of her hair?” Fëanor laughed uneasily. “Come, now, Eressë, just ask her for me.”

“Again, I ask: why?”

Shifting to the opposite foot, Fëanor sighed heavily. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why do you want a lock of my wife’s hair?” Erestor looked away as soon as he finished the question. 

Stepping closer and giving Erestor a stern look, the Noldo clicked his tongue. “Protective a might bit, are we? Why have you not married her yet?”

“It is her decision to make. When the time is right for her, we shall.”

“In the meantime, why not ask her for a token of her love for you. Perhaps... a lock of her golden hair?” suggested Feanor.

Shaking his head, Erestor said, “I do not like the idea of deceiving her, and you have yet to tell me what you wish it for.”

“I just wish it. What more explanation do you need?” Placing his hand upon Erestor’s shoulder, Fëanor further attempted to sway him. “Am I not still your dearest friend? Are we not nearly kin, you and I? When you do take my niece as wife, will we not be of the same house? Come now, Eressë, do this favor for me.”

\----

“It is an unexpected request, but not unwarranted.” It took Artanis a few moments to free her tresses from the pins that held the mass of curls atop her head but once they tumbled down she selected one of the longest lengths and held up a few inches of the end. “Will this do?” she asked as she picked up a small knife from the dressing table.

“Yes; thank you.” Erestor held out his hand, and into his palm she dropped the curl. He closed his fingers around the silver-blonde strands and smiled, leaning down to kiss her brow. “Thank you.”

Nodding, Artanis watched in the mirror as her lover left their bedroom, and only after he was gone did she look over her shoulder with a little frown.

\----

“So? Did you ask her?”

“And if I did?”

Fëanor resisted the urge to shove the other elf, as he may have done in their younger days. “Eressë, did you or did you not?”

Not looking away, Erestor reached under the left flap of his vest with his right hand and pulled from the pocket a sheet of parchment which had been folded into an envelope. Squeezing it open, he lowered it to show Fëanor the contents.

Fëanor grinned as he peered inside.

\----

“So did you give it to him?”

Erestor returned home to find Artanis sitting in the rocking chair, staring at the billowing curtains. Lighting a few candles before approaching, he said, “You knew he was the one who was asking.”

“Of course. He has asked before. Always, I have said no.” Closing her eyes, she said, “I never expected you might deceive me.”

Sitting down on the footstool, Erestor unwrapped a small package he had carried in with him. “I told him it was inappropriate of him to ask when I saw him yesterday. Then I began to consider the idea. Here, look.”

Artanis opened her eyes and looked down. Her expression softened. “Eressë, I... I am sorry to have accused you.”

A spun glass globe was in Erestor’s hands, and captured inside was the lock of hair. “I considered finding a nice box for it or a locket, but when I saw the shop that had these, I thought it would be perfect. I can hang it in the window of my reading room and have it catch the light and sparkle like a gem.”

“Does Fëanáro know what you did?”

“He came with me through the market. He was rather unpleased with the situation, but now he is threatening that he can do better than I. Some nonsense about capturing the light of the trees instead.”


End file.
